


Where the Heart Is Found

by hmweasley



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Gen, Imprisonment, M/M, Minor Scorpius Malfoy & Albus Severus Potter, Non-Graphic Violence, One-sided Harry Potter/Ron Weasley - Freeform, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-14
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2019-07-12 00:49:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15984047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hmweasley/pseuds/hmweasley
Summary: A collection of ficlets featuring the Weasleys.Chapter 1: Oliver has never kissed anyone; Percy's a little annoyed that he didn't even realize he had a girlfriend.Chapter 2: Ron knew Harry would never return his feelings, but that didn't make it easier to watch him flirt with girls after his break up with Ginny.Chapter 3: Bill wants to confess his feelings before he leaves Hogwarts for good.Chapter 4: While on vacation in Athens, Percy and Oliver have differing opinions on how to enjoy the Parthenon.Chapter 5: It's not logical that Louis and his cousins would have to rake leaves when the adults can do it with magic, but he has to do what he's told.6: Ron regretted leaving his friends the moment he left, but he can't go back now.7: Percy is determined to try flying again only because he knows it's important to Oliver.8: When a boy won't stop bothering her, Rose comes to her cousin Molly for advice.9: James uncovers a Muggle tradition that he uses to show Albus that he supports him.10: Lucy is curious about the Sorting Hat.11: Victoire doesn't approve of Teddy getting into fights.12: None of George's excuses make sense anymore.





	1. Practice Makes Perfect

**Author's Note:**

> Here we go with another ficlet collection. This will be a place for all the ficlets I write where a Weasley is an important character. One big exception will be any Ron/Hermione stories as those will still be going in my Romione collection.

“What’s going on with you?”

It was only after a moment of silence followed the question that Oliver realized he was being spoken to. Turning his head from where he’d been staring at his bed hangings, he found Percy standing at the edge of his own bed, watching him.

“What?” Oliver asked, feeling stupid for having missed the question.

Percy’s mouth twitched upward before he returned to his usual straight-faced expression.

“I asked what’s going on,” he said in his prefect voice that Oliver had grown to despise.

He placed his school bag carefully on his bed and pulled his books out one-by-one into a neat stack beside it.

“Why would anything be going on?”

Percy paused in his unpacking to give Oliver a pointed look.

“You only sulk like that after you lose a game, and there was no game today.”

Oliver watch him for a few moments.

“I’m surprised you knew that.”

The words had been genuine, but fire sparked in Percy’s eyes.

“It’s hard to miss a Quidditch match at Hogwarts,” he said.

Oliver supposed that was true, but he didn’t say anything until Percy had finished with his bag, slung it over it’s hook, and moved his books to the foot of his bed to make room for himself.

“I focus too much on Quidditch.”

Percy’s posture was stiff as he focused his attention on Oliver.

“Okay?” he said slowly. “Why’s that bothering you?”

“I realized I’ve never kissed anyone.”

Percy squirmed, his cheeks turning a light pink.

“You only realized that now?” he asked. “Out of the blue?”

“Well, no. Or yes, I guess I did. At least, today was the first time I really thought about it.”

Percy nodded, though his brow was wrinkled in confusion. He didn’t say anything else as he grabbed the top book off his stack and began paging through it.

“What about you?” Oliver asked, raising one eyebrow when Percy cringed at the question. “Have you kissed anyone?”

Percy looked up from his book with narrowed eyes.

“You know I had a girlfriend all of last year, right?”

Oliver’s lack of a response was the only answer Percy needed. He snorted, closing his book with a snap.

“Maybe you’re right. You do spend too much time on Quidditch.” 

Oliver wanted to retort that maybe he just didn’t care about Percy enough to know about his love life, but that felt too mean. Besides, he only felt offended because he agreed. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, he watched Percy too often to not have noticed a girlfriend.

When he didn’t answer, Percy shook his head.

“If it’s bothering you, you shouldn't have any trouble finding someone to kiss. Just ask someone.”

“Like who?” Oliver asked with a furrowed brow.

His ego wasn’t large enough to believe there were people waiting around to kiss him, but when Percy averted his eyes to his comforter, cheeks bright red, Oliver realized why Percy was confident in his prospects.

“Percy,” he said slowly, regret already poking at his thoughts, “do you think I'm attractive?”

Percy spluttered, flipping the pages of the book in his hands frantically. 

“Anyone would. I have eyes. It’s not a big deal.”

Oliver grinned as his stomach fluttered.

“Percy, would you be my first kiss?”

Percy stiffened. His eyes found Oliver again, glaring.

“That’s not how it's meant to work,” he said.

“Sorry,” Oliver said despite not actually feeling sorry. “I figured if you thought I’m attractive, and I think you’re attractive, why not ask?”

“You think I’m attractive?”

Oliver let his eyes rove over Percy’s form with more freedom than he’d ever allowed himself before.

“Yes,” he stated simply.

He saw the shaky breath Percy took from across the room and smirked.

“Is that a yes?”

Percy gave a short nod, and Oliver jumped out of bed, earning a strangled laugh from Percy as he got up to meet him in the middle of the room.

When their lips touched, Oliver felt butterflies, but it wasn’t as earth shattering as a kiss in his dreams would have been.

“How long did it take you to get good at this?” he asked.

Percy grinned.

“I don’t remember, but you’ll figure it out.”

Oliver didn’t waste any time pulling him back in.


	2. Look at Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron knows that Harry will never return his feelings, but it doesn't make it any easier to watch him flirt with girls after his break up with Ginny.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt:  
> "I don't think she's your type." / "Any girl is my type."

Ron frowned at Harry from across the table in the Leaky Cauldron as his best friend ate his dinner begrudgingly. Ron was used to Harry being overworked and tired, but nothing could have prepared him for how Harry would deal with Ginny dumping him less than a month before he’d been prepared to propose.

Ron had been relieved when he’d heard the relationship was over, not that he’d been able to reveal that to anyone. For years, knowing Harry and Ginny were together had made him uneasy, and realizing why that was, several years out of Hogwarts, had only left him feeling guilty.

He poked at his mashed potatoes. For once, he didn’t have an appetite. Neither did Harry as he stared around the pub, observing the other witches and wizards as they went about their business.

“She’s attractive,” Harry commented quietly, watching a woman who was ordering a drink from Hannah at the bar.

Ron glanced at the woman without taking in much information about her appearance. His stomach sloshed uneasily.

“I don’t think she’s your type,” he said, lying through his teeth.

The girl had red hair—though it was a darker auburn than Ginny’s bright shade—and was about Ginny’s height. Those were the two aspects of her appearance that stood out the most. Ron wasn’t stupid enough to miss what drew Harry to her.

“Any girl is my type,” Harry returned, not looking at Ron to see the pain in his eyes. “I need to get over Ginny. It’s not like I’m asking for anything to last.”

Thank Merlin for that. Ron wasn’t sure how he’d handle Harry being in another long term relationship. It had been one thing when it had been his own sister because Ron hadn’t been able to hate her. With another girl, it would be different.

He looked more closely at the woman in question. Her hair wasn’t that far off from his own shade of red. He was a lot taller than she was, but she was also thin like him. Harry had never told Ron what he found attractive in Ginny for obvious reasons that Ron was thankful for, but Ron figured he had to have some of the same qualities considering how similar he and his siblings looked.

If only Harry found them attractive in _him_.

But he didn’t. Harry was straight. Ron had never doubted that, even when—in his most private of moments—he let himself dream otherwise.

“I’m going to go talk to her,” Harry said, already pushing away from the table.

Ron grumbled in response, stabbing at his steak as Harry got up and walked away.


	3. You Idiot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill wants to confess his feelings before he leaves Hogwarts for good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Though I've used Ben Copper from the Hogwarts Mystery game for this, I really didn't get far in that game before I gave up on it. Because of that, I don't know most of the details on Ben and have mostly just made stuff up. You definitely don't need to know anything about Hogwarts Mystery for this because I hardly do.
> 
> Prompts:  
> Bill Weasley - Slash September  
> "You're an idiot." "You're only just getting that now?"

It was hard to believe that after seven years Bill would soon leave Hogwarts for good. He still wasn’t sure what being a “real” adult was meant to feel like, but he knew he hadn’t gotten there.

With the end of his N.E.W.T.s came relief that left him feeling freer than he had since his O.W.L.s. It wasn’t what he thought of when he thought of adulthood with its constant demands and abundant responsibilities. He felt more like he was allowed to be a kid again for the final few days of his school career.

The return of his free time meant the return of thoughts he’d put on the back burner as he’d buried himself in studying, determined to receive the results needed to be hired by Gringotts. With the tests taken, leaving nothing more to do but wait, he could daydream again, and a certain individual had returned to his dreams in full force, though he’d never entirely left.

Ben had tucked himself away in a corner of the common room like he always did. He glanced up when Bill settled in across from him but wasn’t surprised by the company. Bill had, after all, made it a point to spend more time with Ben over the years, keeping the bullies at bay.

“Don’t tell me you’re studying,” Bill said with a smirk. “Aren’t your exams already over?”

He mentally cheered for himself when Ben gave him a small smile in return.

“This is a novel,” Ben said. “I’m reading for fun.”

Bill scoffed.

“Why do that when you can avoid looking at another book until September?”

He knew he wouldn’t be looking at another book until it was necessary, but Ben laughed, shaking his head as he turned back to his book.

Bill watched the other boy as he began to read. The way his head tilted downward made his eyelashes stand out against his pale skin, and when he concentrated, his mouth moved slightly as if he were mouthing the words as he read.

The trance was broken when Ben looked up at him again.

“It’s awkward reading when someone’s staring at you,” he stated simply.

Bill leaned back and threw one arm over the back of the chair next to him to conceal his embarrassment over being called out.

“I like you,” he said, doing his best to appear the picture of confidence, though his heart pounded in his chest.

“Like me?” Ben said slowly. “What do you mean?”

“You’re attractive and a damn talented wizard when you don’t hold yourself back, and I think about kissing you constantly.”

No one could say Bill Weasley wasn’t upfront when he got around to admitting his feelings.

“You’re telling me this now? When you’re about to leave school and move all the way to Egypt?”

“I never claimed to be perfect. With everything else going on, it never came up. I debated not telling you at all, but I needed to put it out there before I leave. It doesn’t have to change anything.”

Ben blinked at him twice before he said, “You’re an idiot.”

“You’re only just getting that now?”

With a sigh, Ben closed his novel and placed it to the side.

“Yes, actually,” he said, “I expected better of you.”

The way he said it made it impossible for Bill to tell whether it was a joke or not, so he settled for grinning back without saying a word.

Ben sighed, sinking back in his chair in defeat.

“I like you too,” he admitted. “How could I not when you’re cool and popular and bothered to stand up for me?”

Bill’s smile widened.

“But I can’t be with someone who’s going to be living in another country come next month.”

And promptly fell again.

“I understand,” Bill said.

He’d begun nodding and found himself unable to stop.

He did understand. Completely. That didn’t ease his disappointment.

“I’ll miss you, Ben,” he said softly, standing.

“Yeah, I’ll miss you too,” Ben said in what was almost a whisper as Bill walked away.


	4. Looking to the Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While on vacation in Athens, Percy and Oliver have differing opinions on how to enjoy the Parthenon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm currently auditing an online course on ancient Greek literature, and we can probably blame that class on this.
> 
> Prompts:  
> mystical  
> learning  
> Percy - Slash September

Percy took a deep breath as he looked at the ruins around him. Athens had long been his dream vacation. Standing in the middle of the Parthenon, soaking it all in, he had difficulty believing that he was really there.

“Look at those columns,” he said, so entranced by the building that he didn’t bother to look at Oliver as he spoke. “This design was created by the Greeks, you know? Back then, you wouldn’t have found columns like these anywhere else, and now we use them everywhere. It’s fascinating.”

He was heavily engrossed in his inspection of the column and didn’t hear Oliver clear his throat.

“Perce,” Oliver said, placing a hand on his arm to get his attention, “can’t we enjoy the place without learning every single detail of how it was built?”

Percy turned to face his husband with a frown.

“Why would we want to do that? The significance of the Parthenon is it’s architecture. That’s what’s fascinated people all this time. How can we come and not learn all there is to know about it?”

Oliver frowned. His hand travelled down Percy’s arm to take his hand.

“This used to be a temple,” he pointed out.

Percy’s brow furrowed.

“And your point is?” he asked. “Sure, it may have been, but that’s not the important thing—”

“It seems kind of important that people came here to worship their gods.”

Percy waved his hand, turning back to the nearest column and tugging his hand from Oliver’s in the process.

“No one believes those myths anymore. The reason the Parthenon is famous now are a far more logical. Why get caught up in ridiculous fictional stories from the past?”

Oliver stepped closer, placing a hand on Percy’s back.

“Muggles think magic sounds ridiculous,” he said quietly into Percy’s ear to avoid being heard by the Muggle tourists around them.

A shiver travelled down Percy’s spine as he felt Oliver’s breath hit his skin.

“Yes, well,” he said, trying to sound unaffected by their proximity, “that’s different of course. We know that’s real.”

“The myths were real to the ancient Greeks. You can’t applaud them for what we gained from them without acknowledging that. If nothing else, you have to appreciate their storytelling. Maybe they’re not true, but they’re plenty mystical. I don’t know how you could read them and not be fascinated.”

Percy didn’t respond, but he squirmed, feeling scolded even though Oliver had said his piece in the kindest voice possible.

Truthfully, Percy never read fiction of any kind, and he held as little interest in the ancient Greek myths as he did any other stories that didn’t have a basis in logic. But it was true that the stories had had an impact on world history, and Oliver was looking at him with puppy dog eyes. When he was close like this, he had a way of disarming Percy that left him unable to stand his ground.

“Fine then,” he said, straightening his shoulders. “If you don’t care about the architecture, what do you want to do?”

“It’s not that I don’t—” Oliver cut himself off with a sigh. “I’d like to just sit down over there for a few minutes,” he motioned towards a spot a little out of the range of the largest number of tourists, “and admire the place for a bit.”

Percy frowned but gave a short nod.

When they first sat down, Percy felt rather bored, glancing between Oliver and the building, but then he realized how nice sitting there was with Oliver’s hand in his and a family with small children laughing not far away.

He began to wonder how different the picture would have been thousands of years earlier. Much different he was sure. Without thinking about it, he leaned his head on Oliver’s shoulder, finding himself lost in dreams of the mystical past that he hadn’t bothered with before.


	5. Raking Leaves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's not logical that Louis and his cousins would have to rake leaves when the adults can do it with magic, but he has to do what he's told.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (object) rake  
> (colour) cinnamon)  
> (dialogue) "When we get out of this, someone is hearing from my lawyer!" // "You don't have one."

Louis wasn’t happy. No one would choose to spend their Saturday afternoon raking leaves, but you especially wouldn’t make the decision if you were a nine-year-old who just wanted to run around outside and enjoy their freedom. It wasn’t fair. He hadn’t asked to be dropped off at the Burrow for the day; his parents had made that decision. He could have been at home, where they didn’t have trees to drop any leaves in the first place.

The fact that he was raking leaves was particularly irksome to Louis because Grandma Weasley could easily have waved her wand and had all of the leaves in neat piles without breaking a sweat. Instead, Louis, James, and Lucy had to do it themselves before they were allowed to play. It didn’t make any logical sense, but when Louis had tried to explain that, the adults had only laughed as if he’d said something amusing.

If he had no choice, Louis was going to do it fast so that he could play. He gripped his rake tightly as he went after the leaves. At first, he was taking more grass and dirt than he was leaves, but he quickly got the hang of it, raking the leaves around him into his own neat pile and ignoring his cousins while he worked.

He was working so intently that he didn’t suspect anything until he was being shoved into his pile of leaves. He was just able to toss his rake away before he fell on it in an unfortunate way. Lucy followed him a second later, screaming as she went. Louis could only see the cinnamon-coloured blurr of her jumper before she was on top of him. He groaned as her elbow collided with his stomach.

He pushed at Lucy until she rolled off of him. His hands waved back and forth as he tried to push stray leaves from his face. Standing was a struggle from the combination of shock, how Lucy kept ramming into him as she struggled too, and the way the leaves kept slipping under his feet and palms. 

Momentarily giving up, he collapsed against the leaves and looked up at a grinning James. His cousin’s own miserable pile of leaves remained untouched behind them, while Louis’ had become a complete mess.

“When we get out of this, someone is hearing from my lawyer!” Louis shouted, glaring at James.

James didn’t look concerned as he crossed his arms against his chest.

“You don’t have one,” he pointed out with a shrug. “I’m not too worried.”

Louis growled as he finally managed to climb out of the leaves. He tried dusting off the leaves that clung to his clothes, but it was a hopeless endeavor.

“Maybe I don’t have a lawyer,” he muttered angrily, “but I have Grandma.”

He stomped towards the house, ignoring James’ pleas for mercy behind him.

“Grandma, James pushed me into the leaves!”

Molly Weasley appeared from thin air. She’d always been good at doing that, even without Apparition, and Louis had no idea how she managed it. She took one look at his leaf-covered form and began tutting. A quick wave of her wand, and he was good as new.

“He ruined my pile,” Louis said with a pout, pointing at the aforementioned pile of leaves.

Molly moved past him to look out the backdoor. She took in the demolished pile of leaves before shouting, “James Sirius Potter, what did you do?”

James’ protests were immediate but came as if from thin air, as James had hidden himself somewhere in the yard as soon as Louis headed for the house. Lucy pointed to the left, still sitting in the pile as if unsure what she should be doing, and Molly followed her directions.

Louis smirked to himself and closed himself inside. He had a feeling James would be doing the rest of the raking by himself. At the very least, his grandma would take care of part of it with magic and make James fix Louis’ pile again.

That meant Louis was free to do what he wanted. He settled himself onto the sofa with a sigh, stretching his arms out over his head.


	6. Slipped Through My Fingers (Ron)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron regretted leaving his friends the moment he left, but he can't go back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (dialogue) "I have this medical condition called Personal Space."  
> (location) Shell Cottage  
> (word) breeze

Ron sat outside Shell Cottage, staring out over the ocean. Seagulls called to each other above him, and a cold breeze ruffled his hair, making him shiver and tug his jacket tighter around himself. He didn’t get up to go back inside though. He didn’t deserve to sit in front of the warm fire and have Bill and Fleur comfort him.

He’d been an idiot. The second he’d disappeared from their latest hiding spot, he’d recognized that, but he hadn’t been able to set it right. The cold breeze was nothing when he already felt cold from the inside out. He didn’t think he would feel warm again until he located Hermione and Harry, though maybe they’d never forgive him for what he’d done. He wasn’t sure he’d forgive himself.

Bill sat down beside him, and Ron kept his gaze on the ocean, trying to only think of the way the waves came in and out, in and out. It was the closest to being calm he could achieve. He’d felt guilty enough about leaving his friends, but since arriving at Shell Cottage, he’d felt guilty about interrupting his brother’s life as a newlywed too, even if a war had done it first.

“Ron, you’ll have to talk to us eventually.”

“I’m fine,” Ron snapped.

He was aware of how stereotypical of a reaction it was, but that only increased his irritation with himself. There was no way to disguise how massively he’d screwed up, and Bill couldn’t completely hide how disappointed he was in Ron for abandoning his friends. But Ron didn’t need the reminder when he was more than aware of it himself. He was better off by himself, but Bill wasn’t in any hurry to leave.

“You’re clearly not,” Bill said. “Let’s talk about it.”

“Fine,” Ron said, turning to Bill and gesticulating wildly. “The truth is, I’m not fine. You see, I have this medical condition called Personal Space. The only known treatment is people leaving me alone when I ask them to.”

It took a second for Bill to respond.

“That’s not funny.”

Ron’s eyes were on the ocean again. He watched a seagull swoop down to the water and grab a fish before he spoke.

“I’m not trying to be funny. All I’m trying to do is sit here and enjoy the quiet. Is that too much to ask for?”

When Bill sighed, Ron knew he had temporarily won.

“Come inside before it gets dark,” Bill said before clapping him on the shoulder and standing. “We’d rather not have you getting sick on us on top of everything else. And I mean actually sick, not your personal space nonsense.”

Ron didn’t bother with a response as Bill headed back inside. He had until sunset to stew in his thoughts. Then Fleur would appear. They all knew Ron wouldn’t snap at her the way he had Bill, so he’d have little choice but to follow her back into the house and eat some of the food she would inevitably place in front of him, even as it made him feel nauseous.

From inside the house, he heard Bill turning on the radio and finding Potterwatch. He could make out the static-filled voice of Kingsley Shacklebolt, but he couldn’t distinguish any of the words. That was for the better. Most nights he couldn’t stomach what news they had to share. It only filled him with greater anxiety as they speculated over where Harry—and Hermione, though they didn’t often allude to her directly—might be.

If they had any solid evidence, Ron wouldn’t have been sitting around uselessly at Shell Cottage.

As the sun got ever closer to the horizon, Ron felt tears of frustration prick at his eyes. He buried his hands in the sand, squeezing in an attempt to relieve his anxiety, only to have the grains slip between his fingers.


	7. Won't Sink Like Stone (Percy/Oliver)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Percy is determined to try flying again only because he knows it's important to Oliver.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notice: This one contains nausea and vomiting.
> 
> Prompts:  
> (word) soothe  
> (word) fly

Percy stood across from Oliver on the Quidditch pitch, determined to look at his boyfriend’s face and not the broom that was in his hand. He was going to defy expectations, even his own if he was being honest with himself, but Oliver wasn’t helping much with the sceptical way he kept looking at him. The disbelief was something he would have expected from his brothers, but he’d hoped not to receive it from Oliver of all people.

“Are you sure about this?” Oliver asked for the fifth time in as many minutes.

Rolling his eyes, Percy took a step closer. He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, determined to make himself sure about it.

“If I were going to back out, wouldn’t I have done it by now?”

Oliver didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t voice his doubts either.

“You really haven’t been on a broom since flying lessons first year?” he asked.

Percy rubbed at the back of his neck. Oliver was the first person he’d admitted that to, though it would have been obvious if anyone had bothered paying attention to him over the years. He’d only owned up to it because he knew Oliver wouldn’t make him feel less because of it, but he still felt a little embarrassed to hear it said out loud.

“Not once,” he confirmed. “I didn’t have any desire to fly after that. It was terrifying.”

“Do you think this time will be any different?”

Percy didn’t look at Oliver as he responded.

“Probably not, but I’ll be with you, and I want to at least try to understand why you like flying so much. You listen to me talk about the Ministry all the time.”

Oliver placed a finger under Percy’s chin and tilted his face up, a small smile gracing his lips. He kissed Percy softly, running his hand down Percy’s arm as he pulled away. It was the most comforted Percy had felt since they’d reached the Quidditch pitch and the reality of what he’d agreed to sunk in.

“And you listen to me rant about Quidditch all the time,” Oliver joked. “That seems like a fair trade. I don’t plan on you dragging me off to the Ministry all the time when you start working there.”

“Maybe not,” Percy said with a sigh, “but I still think I should give flying one more shot. Plenty of people love it. More so than they do Ministry politics. I must be missing something.”

Oliver laughed before taking a deep breath and mounting his broom. Percy’s stomach twisted into more knots than should have been possible, but he refused to back out. It’s what most would have expected from him. If he’d been with Fred or George, they’d have said as much as he mounted the broom, but Oliver offered him nothing but an encouraging smile.

“Ready?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

Percy tightened his arms around Oliver’s waist as much as he could without suffocating him and gave a grunt of confirmation.

They were hovering above the ground moments later, and Percy’s arms instinctually tightened further, prompting a laugh from Oliver. Or at least as much of a laugh as he could manage while Percy was preventing him from breathing.

The ground was only a few feet away, but Percy couldn’t look down at it when he felt rather queasy despite having hardly moved.

“Even though I know, logically, that we’re supposed to be moving and it shouldn't freak me out, my brain doesn’t like this,” he said.

Pressing his face into Oliver’s back, he tried to ignore their surroundings.

“We can go down—”

“No.” Percy straightened. “Keep going. I’ll adjust.”

But he didn’t adjust like he had hoped. Instead, he only felt sicker despite the slow speed at which Oliver moved. He couldn’t look at their surroundings. Seeing them move when he was sitting still did strange things to his brain and to his stomach. Though he buried his face in Oliver’s shirt to block it out, he could feel the breeze ruffling his hair and knew that it wasn’t just from the wind.

“I think I might be sick,” he admitted, voice weak, after only three minutes in the air.

Oliver began lowering them to the ground gently after that, but not wanting to upset Percy’s stomach further, it took longer than Percy would have liked to make it there. The second his feet touched the ground, he was off the broom and collapsing to sit on the ground, not trusting his legs. Oliver stepped forward, reaching out to soothe him, but Percy held up a hand.

“The last thing I need right now is to vomit all over you,” he said.

He stared at the grass, willing the nausea to go away now that he was back on solid ground and the world wasn’t shifting beneath him. Despite his words, Oliver crouched beside him and placed a gentle hand against his back. Percy wished that the gesture and the intent behind it made a difference in how sick he felt.

It didn’t. There was a split second where Percy knew what was going to happen before it did. He lunged away from Oliver before being sick all over the grass. The entire time, Oliver’s hand was rubbing his back.

When there was nothing left in his stomach, Percy wasn’t sure if he felt better or worse than before he’d vomited, but Oliver asked him, “Better?” and he offered a short nod in response. 

It was Oliver who had enough sense of mind to clean up the vomit and offer Percy some water. Percy wasn’t sure he’d ever loved Oliver more than he did in that moment. When his boyfriend helped him stand, Percy went willingly all the way to the Hospital Wing.


	8. What Cousins Are For (Rose & Molly II)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When a boy won't stop bothering her, Rose comes to her cousin Molly for advice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Rose & Molly II  
> (word) parchment  
> (word) believe

Molly was hard at work on a Potions essay when a chair being pulled out across from her forced her to look up. Rose was pouting as she tossed her bag onto the floor with force. Molly inwardly sighed. All of the Weasleys had a fire in them that could be explosive and annoying to deal with at times, but Rose had been particularly volatile over the last several years as the distance she’d put between herself and Albus became harder for her to maintain.

Glancing around the Gryffindor common room, Molly saw that not many were around, as it was a beautiful spring day outside. The sunlight streaming through the windows had been tempting Molly as much as it had everyone else, but she’d been determined to finish her essay before she took advantage of it.

Family duty surpassed both nice weather and school work in importance, however, and Molly tossed her quill and parchment aside as she waited for an explanation of Rose’s cloudy demeanor.

“Molly,” Rose said, turning her cousin’s name into a whine as she leaned across the table. Her frown only deepened. “What do you do when a boy won’t stop bothering you? I’ve already told him that I’m not interested, but he keeps pestering me. He won’t take no for an answer, and he’s convinced I’ll come around. I’m at my wit’s end trying to get rid of him, and I need help!”

Molly’s lips thinned as she thought of the various annoying boys she’d dealt with over her own time at Hogwarts. She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms against her chest.

“Hex him,” she said with a simple shrug, as if she were suggesting nothing more than turning him down nicely with words. A method that had been proven as ineffective already.

Rose cringed, her hands beginning to fidget with the hem of her robes.

“You’re a prefect,” she said slowly.

Molly rolled her eyes at the notion that she needed to be reminded of that fact. It was true that she abided by the rules far more than any of her cousins. She generally considered them good guidelines to follow, and she was more than willing to punish those who broke them when they didn’t need to be broken. But she wasn’t blind to the shortcomings inherent in any rule system.

“Even my father wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about you hexing a boy who’s harassing you,” Molly said with a shrug. “And you know how uptight my dad is. If you’ve tried getting him to leave you alone by just flat out telling him you aren’t interested and that didn’t work, then you’re not left with many other option. Better to hex him now than let him keep it up and become even worse down the line. If you make it a good one, then he’ll be too embarrassed to even tell anyone it happened anyway.”

Rose still looked somewhat unsure, but she nodded. Molly could see the determination in her eyes even as she warred with her own sense of needing to follow the rules. Molly had once believed the same thing; then a boy had grabbed her bum when she wasn’t expecting it. She’d been far more liberal with her wand since, and she had few qualms about boosting Rose’s confidence with it before she was in a similar situation.

“Thank you,” Rose said, tapping her hands against the table as she mentally prepared herself to follow Molly’s advice.

Molly gave her a smile.

“What are cousins for?” she said gently. “If you need anything else, let me know. Truth be told, don’t go to any of the guys. They’ll probably just make it worse.”

Rose gave a short laugh as she threw her bag back over her shoulder.

“Why do you think I came to you?” she asked.

Molly nodded as Rose turned to leave. A last minute thought hit her, and she called Rose’s name just as she had reached the portrait all.

“If you do get caught when you perform the hex,” Molly said, “try to get caught by a female professor.”

Rose looked at her for a second before nodding and leaving. Molly watched her go, tapping her fingers against the wood. She mentally shook herself and picked her quill back up. There was little to do but hope for the best. In the meantime, she had an essay that she had to finish.


	9. Spirit (James Sirius & Albus Severus)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James uncovers a Muggle tradition that he uses to show Albus that he supports him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (words) school, appreciation, purple  
> (relationship) siblings

James puffed out his chest as he entered the Great Hall. His usual school robes were a bright, almost neon, purple, and he was proud of himself for it. Though he was prepared for the detention that was sure to come as a consequence of altering his uniform, he had his defense lined up: the robes were for a good cause.

Mandy, a fellow Gryffindor who also happened to be a Muggleborn, had told him all about a Muggle celebration called Spirit Day, when people would wear purple to show that they were against bullying of LGBT people. James, who had been itching for a way to publicly show his support for Albus since his little brother had come out, jumped on the opportunity. Sure it wasn’t the right day of the year to fit with the Muggle tradition, but that didn’t matter. No one would have a clue what Spirit Day was anyway. James could start something new.

He walked through the Great Hall, smile wide as the students stared at him and his robes. He caught Albus’ eye from across the hall and waved. Albus didn’t wave back, though he openly stared, his eyes and mouth both wide. Scorpius looked just as surprised from beside him, but at least he was wearing a small smile. James was glad at least one of them could appreciate his act of goodwill.

“Yes, yes,” James called loudly as he reached the Gryffindor table. It had grown quiet enough that the entire hall could hear him, and even the professors were listening. Not one of them had made a move to escort him to the hall or punish him yet. Judging from their faces, they were still having trouble processing what they were seeing.

“I’m following a Muggle tradition,” James declared, ignoring the sniggering that was beginning to erupt around the hall. “They wear purple to show their support for LGBT people. So, let it be known that I, James Sirius Potter, also support LGBT people, especially my little brother Al.”

He turned and gave Albus a smile but hardly caught sight of his brother’s face before he buried his head in his arms on the Slytherin table. Even Scorpius’ smile was gone as he leaned over to check on his best friend, one hand against his back.

James gave one final nod and sat down to eat his breakfast, feeling pleased with himself.

* * *

He wasn’t expecting to be confronted with a whirlwind that was his brother when he left the Great Hall, but he hadn’t yet made it to the Grand Staircase before Albus was in front of him, backing him up against the wall.

James was vaguely aware of Fred and Roxanne crowding in on either side of him and Scorpius behind Albus, all of them cautioning Albus not to do something he’d regret. Albus paid it as little attention as James did.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Albus demanded.

Though he hadn’t touched a finger to James, James felt like he was being physically held down. His back was pushed firmly against the wall, and Albus’ face was right in front of his. Behind his brother, he could just barely see the figures of students slowing down to watch the spectacle as they left breakfast, only to be shooed away by Fred as soon as they came to a stop.

“Wearing purple,” James said, his voice trembling despite how excited he’d been with the whole thing not ten minutes before. “Like I said in the hall, it’s a Muggle tradition—”

“I got what the purple is supposed to be for, James,” Albus growled. “I meant, why are you wearing it?”

“I wanted to show that I support you!” James exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Isn’t that what you want? A brother who’s there for you and doesn’t make fun of you? I was trying to do something nice for once. Why are you angry at me? You could show some appreciation.”

Albus backed away despite the fire in his eyes. He shook his head as if the situation were hopeless, and James was left feeling like he’d missed something massive.

“You don’t understand,” Albus said with a scowl. “You never listen. That’s the problem, James. I don’t want you standing up in the middle of the Great Hall in your stupid transfigured robes reminding the whole school I’m bi. That was humiliating. Why does everything you do have to be for attention? You can’t do anything that’s just nice.”

Before James could respond, Albus fled to the dungeons. With Albus no longer between them, James was left looking at Scorpius Malfoy, who watched James for a moment with a blank expression.

“It really would help if you listened to him once in a while, you know? He’s not like you. He doesn’t want everyone looking at him.”

With that, Scorpius was gone too, off to look after Albus. James was pretty sure Scorpius’ words had been meant as genuine advice, but he still didn’t understand why what he’d done was wrong. He had listened. That was how he’d known Albus was bi in the first place. Hell, he’d been one of the first people in the family to piece it together. He’d even managed to keep his mouth shut and let Albus come to him with the information first.

Roxanne nudging him in the arm jarred him back to reality. His eyes refocusing, he saw Fred and Roxanne looking at him with sadness in their eyes, though neither of them seemed keen on scolding him like the Slytherins.

“I’m going to have to apologize, aren’t I?”

At their nods, he set off for the Slytherin dungeons with a sigh. Though he still wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for.


	10. Invincible Curiosity (Lucy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy wants to learn more about the Sorting Hat, even if it means getting into trouble.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> "Curiosity is the one thing invincible in Nature." - Freya Stark  
> (words) hat, shot

Lucy was fascinated by the Sorting Hat from the moment Professor Flitwick placed it atop the stool and informed Lucy’s class that they’d be placing it on top of their heads to be sorted into their houses. Unfortunately, she didn’t see the hat again in the months that followed her sorting into Ravenclaw, and none of the students she asked were much help.

It wasn’t until she’d sufficiently bothered her cousin Victoire, the Head Girl, that she learned the Sorting Hat resigned in Headmistress McGonagall’s office for 364 days of the year. When it was made clear that she wouldn’t get to see said office without reason, she resigned herself to the fact she’d need to get into some trouble.

The shameful act had hurt her, but as it was the only shot she had, she’d done it. She’d managed to get sent to McGonagall’s office. She’d complete whatever punishment was necessary before trying to pretend it had never happened. What mattered was that the Sorting Hat was before her in all its glory. Well, perhaps not all. It was sitting silently upon a shelf, far too high for Lucy to get to without breaking more rules. She stared up at it in wonder, hardly remembering that she was still waiting for the headmistress to appear with her punishment.

“Excuse me,” she said, hoping her voice was loud enough to carry to the hat but low enough that McGonagall wouldn’t be alerted from her quarters. “Sorting Hat, I was wondering how you work.”

The hat came to life as if she’d said magic words. Though it had no eyes, Lucy swore it was looking at her, and she fought the urge to back away.

“I work through magic,” the hat said simply, not caring that its words made Lucy tingle with excitement. “It is the same as much of this castle.”

“Most magic can be explained by theory,” Lucy pointed out, taking a step forward past McGonagall’s desk as she forgot where she was. “But I can’t find anything in Hogwarts’ library on the enchantments Gryffindor supposedly placed on you. There’s no explanation anywhere of how it works.”

 

“Is that so?” the hat said. “Reading has never been my forte. I’m not aware of what is or isn’t said about me in the library. As such, I don’t believe I hold the answers you seek.”

Lucy’s bottom lip stuck out in a pout. She thought for a moment before voicing another thought that had been on her mind.

“My grandfather has a saying that one should never trust something that thinks for itself if you can’t see its brain, but he seems to have no qualms about you. That seems strange, doesn’t it? You can definitely think, but I don’t see anywhere you’d be holding a brain.”

The hat shifted in a way that reminded Lucy of a person tilting their head to the side.

“I was created for a singular purpose: to sort new students into the proper house. I do not think for myself. What I do is one job and one job only.”

“We talking now,” Lucy snapped, irritation beginning to work it’s way through her. “The fact that you can talk means you’re intelligent. And you compose songs. Louis says there’s a new one every year. Nothing could write a song if it couldn’t think.”

The hat hummed in response.

“You were a good fit for Ravenclaw,” it said, tilting forward as if nodding. “I made the correct decision with your sorting. Hopefully you’ve seen that as well despite your initial reservations of going somewhere separate from the rest of your family.”

“That’s not an ex—”

Sounds came from one of the doors that led off of McGonagall’s office, and Lucy suddenly remembered where she was. She hurried back to stand in front of the desk, the Sorting Hat falling entirely still once more. As McGonagall sat behind her desk and looked at her with stern eyes, Lucy did her best to look at the floor and not the hat that continued to intrigue her.


	11. Better (Victoire/Teddy)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Victoire doesn't approve of Teddy getting into fights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> (restriction) no purebloods  
> (colours) mauve, grey, pink  
> (character) Victoire Weasley  
> (word) slice

Victoire watched Teddy slice the potatoes for their stew in silence. It had been several days, but she couldn’t stop staring at the large mauve bruise that covered a significant portion of his face. The Teddy she knew never raised his voice let alone his fist, and having her boyfriend come home with such an injury had been nothing short of terrifying. 

When she’d first seen it, it had been a bright pink that slowly deepened into a dark red. It had been alarming, but the true fear had set in when it had begun turning purple, first lightly and then into darker shades. She was a healer who had seen far worse injuries, and she knew it was merely a bruise going through its usual cycles. Somehow, it still startled her, even when she looked at it days later.

Teddy looked up from the potatoes, his knowing grey eyes finding hers. Without speaking a word, she felt his sharp reprove. He didn’t like being fussed over. He never had, and that was usually perfectly all right with her. She did enough fussing at work every day. It was nice not having to do it when she came home every day. But that bruise wasn’t an everyday occasion, and she felt like she was justified to do a little fussing.

He smiled at her, his grey eyes managing to sparkle despite the sting moving his face that much must have caused. She’d never been that badly bruised around her eye before, but she could imagine it, and the thought of it made her frown instead of smiling back.

“Please stop worrying,” he said, voice soft. “I’m fine. Look, it’s already healing. You said so yourself.”

He held his hand up to gesture at his face as if he were presenting it for inspection, but Victoire didn’t need to see it any closer than she already had. She pushed past him to begin boiling the water for the stew.

“You easily could have been a lot worse,” she retorted. “I don’t know what you were thinking getting into a fight like that.”

“I told you!” Teddy said, waving the knife through the air before thinking better of it and setting it down on the cutting board. “He was insulting werewolves. Like, some really nasty stuff, Victoire. I couldn’t just sit there and listen to it. Would you have been able to look me in the eyes if I had?”

Victoire turned to glare at him.

“There were more options than saying nothing and fighting,” she said before turning back around. “You didn’t have to get yourself hurt over it. That didn’t help anyone. It wasn’t worth it.”

She could hear Teddy begin to slice the potatoes again as the knife forcefully hit the cutting board.

“It sure felt like it was worth it,” he muttered to himself as he worked.

Victoire rolled her eyes but didn’t offer a response as she placed the pot on the stove and turned on the burner with a quick point of her wand. Giving a deep sigh, she approached Teddy from behind, wrapping both her arms around his waist as he continued to cut the potatoes.

“You know punching him did nothing to change his views,” she said, letting her cheek rest against his back.

“No, probably not, but it made me feel a hell of a lot better.”

Victoire rolled her eyes once more before giving Teddy a quick squeeze around the middle and letting go. Picking up another knife, she set to work on the carrots beside him.


	12. Imprisoned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> None of George's excuses make sense anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompts:  
> Write about someone imprisoned.  
> Write about someone who strives to be good.  
> Write about a protective mother.  
> (word) ironclad  
> Angelina Johnson and George Weasley - S.S. Bludger and Quaffle

George watched Angelina from across the table, his hands laid out on the wood in front of him like the prison warden had instructed before they’d brought him into the room where his visitor was waiting.

He’d been surprised to see it was his wife who had come to Azkaban to talk to him. He hadn’t seen her since the day the Wizengamot had declared him guilty. His parents had come for visits, as had each of his siblings. Even Percy was more sympathetic than George could have ever imagined him being. But he hadn’t seen his wife since the day of his trial or his children since his arrest.

His mouth was open slightly as he stared at her. He half suspected she was a mirage which would dissipate at any second. She didn’t disappear though. She continued sitting across from him, and the fact that she had come was almost enough to overshadow the coldness in her eyes as she watched him.

Blood pumped through his veins with vigor as he resisted the urge to reach for her, an action sure to get him in troubles both with the prison wardens and with Angelina herself. She’d made it clear how she felt when he’d confessed to her that he had done exactly what the Ministry accused him of.

“Why did you do it?” she asked, voice emotionless.

“It seemed like the only way to protect our family,” George said, a slight whine of desperation in his voice that he hadn’t meant to be there. “I wanted what was best for you, for the kids.”

Angelina laughed, and the sound made goosebumps erupt across George’s skin. The explanation hadn’t been enough the first time he’d given it to her either, but he didn’t have any others to use. Nothing he could say would fix what he’d done. He’d accepted that in the endless time he’d been given to contemplate his former actions. The excuses he’d clung to no longer felt valid even to himself, but at the time, they’d felt ironclad.

George swallowed as Angelina leaned over the table, getting closer to him than anyone had since his arrest unless you counted the wardens escorting him places. His eyes flickered towards the guards, waiting for them to reprimand her, but their faces were emotionless as they stood against the far wall. They were talented at pretending they weren’t watching George’s every move.

“We fought a war when we were barely adults because we wanted to make the world a better place. Everything I’ve done since has been an attempt to spread good in the world. We didn’t risk our lives so that you could commit fraud, George. You disgust me.”

The only immediate response he gave was a slight nod of his head. He didn’t disagree with her.

“Do you remember when we were both on the Gryffindor Quidditch team?” he asked suddenly.

Her eyes narrowed.

“How could I have forgotten that? Quidditch was the best part of Hogwarts for me, and you and Fred were a huge part of that. Being on the team wouldn’t have been the same if it weren’t for the two of you.”

She swallowed, tears shining in her eyes. George nodded, feeling a burn in the back of his throat.

“That’s what I hoped,” he said. “You hate me now, but at least we can both remember a time when things were good between us. That’s what I want to hold onto. The kids probably hate me too. Maybe they won’t remember me at all once they’re older, but you have good memories. Please share those with them, Angelina. The thought of my own kids thinking I’m a monster…”

He trailed off, staring down at the table. Angelina cleared her throat.

“They don’t think you’re a monster.”

When George looked back up at her, her eyes were on her lap.

“But I don’t want you to see them again,” she said, knocking the wind out of George. “Even once your sentence is done, I don’t want you coming around. It’s not good for the kids. When they get to Hogwarts, they’ll already have to deal with people knowing their dad is in Azkaban. I won’t stand for you making things worse for them.”

George didn’t respond. He couldn’t even move as he stared at Angelina. She still wouldn’t look him in the eye as she stood.

“Goodbye, George.”

He watched her leave, still frozen in place. She hadn’t said whether she planned on visiting again. He stared at her retreating figure until the door swung shut behind her. Even then, he didn’t move until a guard poked him in the back with his wand.


	13. Ink (Ginny - AU)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom helps Ginny feel powerful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is at least a little bit AU. While in the books it's implied that Ginny had trouble remembering her actions while under the influence of the diary, it's heavily implied here that she does remember all of it.
> 
> Prompt:  
> Write about a light character going to the dark side.

Ginny sucked in a breath as words appeared on the page of her newly discovered diary, answering her upset ramblings about how Harry would never notice her as if she’d spoken them to a friend.

_You sound rather lovesick, my new friend. Perhaps I can be of some help?_

Ginny’s heart raced in fear. Her mind raced through products she’d seen advertised over the years. Not once had she heard of a diary that wrote back. With a shaking hand, she set her quill against the page and began to write again.

_How can a book understand me?_

The words disappeared only to be replaced by new ones in someone else’s hand for a second time.

_Of course I can understand you. It is not a book you are speaking to but a person. Or, at least, a formerly living soul. I cannot account for what has become of me since my memory was sealed away here._

_Who are you?_

_My name is Tom Riddle. This is my diary you have found._

_I’m sorry. Your diary was in my things, and when I opened it, it was blank. I didn’t know it belonged to someone else. I don’t know a Tom Riddle, but if I find him, I’ll give it back. Honest._

_Don’t worry, my new friend. I imagine that my time was long, long ago. Now I am nothing more than a memory held within the pages of this book. I can do nothing now but share my story. You would do me a great service by listening. Would you like to learn more?_

Ginny couldn’t resist. She’d never known listening to a story to be harmful. Tom told her of his life in a far more engaging way than any novel she’d ever read, making her gasp and ask questions that he could answer right away. It became impossible to draw her away. All she wanted to do was hear more from her new friend whose soul she had connected with.

His plan became her plan. It was hard to bear his disappointment to know that it had yet to come to fruition, but Ginny could help with that just as she had helped by listening to his story. And she wanted nothing more than to help realize the dreams of the poor boy stuck in his diary for eternity.

It was only a chicken which she had to strangle. She kept repeating the sentiment to herself as she wrapped her hands around its throat. Only a chicken. She’d eaten countless of them during her lifetime. As Tom had been keen to remind her, there was nothing evil about killing one. She had to do it the Muggle way to prevent being detected, but she wasn’t doing anything immoral. It was only a chicken.

Adrenaline surged through her veins as she felt life leave the bird. She let out an involuntary cry at the unexpected sensation.

But her momentary alarm was quickly overshadowed by the pure elation that came from the adrenaline. She had never felt more powerful than she did in the aftermath of the chicken’s death. Never before had she realized the power she held. She had taken life from the world, and she had truly experienced it. It had been far more thrilling than any spell could have given her.

An hour later, she was back in her dorm, her hands rubbed raw to make sure every speck of blood was gone from her skin.

_Tom, I don’t know what to do. I enjoyed it. I’ve never experienced something like that before. Please talk me out of it. I know it wasn’t supposed to be fun._

It didn’t take long for a reply to appear. She felt Tom’s presence as if his arms were wrapping her in a tight hug.

_If you enjoyed it, could it have been bad?_


End file.
